


He's A Good Boy

by LeonoraChris



Series: Ghosts [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Pre-Series, can be read as a standalone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 01:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1369390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeonoraChris/pseuds/LeonoraChris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short story about Tony and his childhood or the lack of it. The story is intro to the story 'Ghost Games'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's A Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  _The story and any possible original characters are mine.  
>  NCIS, its own characters and canon aren't._
> 
> * * *

Anthony DiNozzo Junior was a good little boy. He kept his room clean and tidy. He did have a few toys given to him by a relative, but he never played with them. Instead he spent his days studying under the watchful eyes of his many teachers at home.

He didn't make his clothes dirty, because he knew it would upset his mother who had chosen his clothes with love, even if she didn't always show it. He always made sure to eat everything he was given to eat, even if he didn't like the food or even when he wasn't feeling good. He didn't get sick often because DiNozzo men didn't get sick. When he did, he made sure mother and father didn't have to be bothered by it.

He didn't speak unless he was told to speak. He never made any sounds when he moved around the big house and he never let any of the guests see him, because it pleased his parents. He was like a little ghost; unless you saw him, you didn't know he was there. And Tony—as his mother called him—he was good at being invisible. Even better when he was too small for his age.

He never asked for anything and only did what he was told to do. He didn't question it when his parents' breaths smelled bad or why his mother was walking funny and giggling when she came to give him a good night kiss. He cherished those moments. He liked it when his mother was acting funny, because then she would shower him with affection, which she normally wouldn't do.

Then his mother became sick; so sick that one day she'd been lying in her bed for weeks. When she finally decided to get up, she stepped on the toy car, which Tony had brought with him in the room, wanting to show it to her. Hitting her already sick head, she never stood up again. It didn't matter how much Tony kept calling for her, she would only stare at him with those scary looking eyes and feel so cold against his small hands.

Sitting down, Tony kept brushing his fingers through her beautiful long hair. He had always loved looking at his mother. He hadn't seen many people in his life, but he was sure she had to be the most beautiful person on earth. When she smiled, she looked even prettier and that smile made the whole world warm and beautiful. She didn't smile often.

He was still sitting next to his cold mother when his father came home.

"Junior."

Tony knew he was a bad little boy. He knew it when he saw his father's eyes. They were even scarier than mother's.

"What have you done?!" father roared with his booming voice and Tony shivered, trying to make himself smaller, invisible. He had always hoped his father would notice him and talk to him, but now he wasn't sure if he wanted it anymore. He was scared, but he didn't know why. He didn't make any sound when the big hand came and grabbed a handful of his hair or when he was shoved against his mother and kept there.

"Look at her! See what you did!? You killed her! You murdered my wife!"

Tony was confused. He didn't understand. What was father talking about?

"She's dead!"

He wasn't sure what being dead meant, but he knew it was something bad. Tony was eight years old when he saw his mother for the last time and when his father raised his hand against him for the first time.

As Tony grew and became a little bit bigger, he started understanding things better. At the age of ten he finally understood what being dead and killed meant, and so he finally stopped waiting for his mother to come back home. Mother had sometimes told him how he had never cried, not even at birth. She seemed so proud of it and his father told her it was because he was DiNozzo and DiNozzo men didn't cry. Tony was ten years old when he cried for the first time and he felt like he was letting his mother down because of it.

By the time he was twelve, father had tried 'forgetting' him everywhere, taking Tony to some business trip with him, only to 'forget' him at the hotels or some dark streets in a strange country or a city. Or any other convenient place and moment.

Now Tony was old enough to start feeling anger and to not let the beating break his spirit. How he had survived this long, he wouldn't know. They stood there, face to face, on that day; like two battle ships, ready for the big battle.

"I'm leaving," Tony finally said. He didn't bother wiping off the blood on his lips and chin. His back felt like it was on fire, it hurt so much, but he kept his head up and his back straight. He had learned early on that father had pleasure seeing him in pain. Some twisted way of passing time, that's what it had become. He sometimes wondered if that's how all parents were treating their children and if that's what being a good parent was all about. If that was the case, he would rather never have kids of his own.

His father only sneered at him and hit him one last time. "I have no son." That was it. He didn't see his father again. Maybe he should have felt bad, after hearing those words, but instead he felt finally free.

Tony was twelve years old when he started a new life. A relative, one of the few looking out for him, helped him the best he could and made sure he didn't end up on the streets, had food to eat and clothes to wear, kept the social workers away until he was old enough to take care of himself. Somehow he made it through his teenage years and schools. Somehow he made it through new kinds of heartbreaks that life decided to throw his way.

He was way over twenty years old Detective and no longer a boy, when he met his new boss. The man was like some angry beast, growling and threatening him with all kinds of things. It went on for days and for some reason he'd been chosen to be the one working with him. Tony wasn't afraid, he simply smiled, and the strangest thing happened; the man frowned and then smiled back at him.

"How good are you writing letters, DiNozzo?"

"Um... Pretty good I think... Why?"

"Good. Then it shouldn't take too long for you to write a resignation letter."

"Gibbs?"

"If you're fast enough, I'll give you a ride to D.C. I mean, your car did get totaled pretty bad, right?"

"Right... But, Gibbs. I really am not sure what you are trying to tell me. So help me out a little?"

"DiNozzo... I'm offering you a job. So are you going to write that letter or not?"

Tony was silent for a while. If he would say no, he would keep on living his life the way he had, hiding in the shadows and playing his ghost games just like always. Gibbs however had seen past his act. If he would say yes, he could not keep hiding anymore. Gibbs wouldn't allow it. "Yes..."

The old man smiled and there was a strange look on his face as he put his hand against the back of his head in a gentle manner and for the first time since his childhood, Tony didn't flinch at such sudden touch. "Good boy."

**_The End_ **


End file.
